


Warmth in her Fingertips

by Hoodedscarlet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Confinement, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodedscarlet/pseuds/Hoodedscarlet
Summary: Widowmaker is one of the finest agents that Talon has, and the most deadly sniper known to the world. Few knew about her existence, fewer still could rival her skill with a rifle and live for more than a few days after. But her latest mission takes her back to King's Row to pace the familiar rooftops - only this time there are no shots to be fired, no goods to secure and no areas to be locked down. As long as she can ignore the warmth in her fingertips and the whispers of her life before, everything should work out just fine. ...Right?





	

It would be a lovely evening in King’s Row tonight if it wasn’t for the bloody Talon agents.

Overwatch’s call out tonight had been a hasty one, and even that was an understatement. Nothing about their set up tonight had the polish of an official Overwatch mission - though then again, few things did with the organisation still running largely undercover. It showed in their lacking five man set up, in the way that Mercy was stretched thin to cover a skeleton of a team. But duty called and Lena wasn’t one to turn down those in need, pull on the goggles and become Tracer in the blink of an eye. Certainly it wasn’t the most preferable of times either - she and Hana had been in the middle of a Mario Kart cup and she had been so _close_ to beating her. But Talon had other plans - they _always_ had other plans and none of them were kind or helpful in the slightest. Quite frankly if that was the case she wouldn’t be here, still with Overwatch, Tracer in her classic garb.

But she was, and as she sped through the darkened streets she could hear the sound of gunshots snapping off in the distance. She could damn near place every one with a pinpoint accuracy; her next targets the closest ones. Blinking forward, she zoomed around a corner to bury a few pulses in the back of a goon's head, dead before he hit the ground and no time to check as she let herself be flung back in time and around the corner. _Blink, blink, fire, rewind._ It was a mantra that had kept her safe, kept her alive for as long as the chronal accelerator had been anchoring her and it wasn't about to fail her now. She blinked away in time to see gunfire hail down where she had just been standing.

 _“Be careful!”_ A familiar voice snapped in her ear, the communicator crackling. She paused for a moment, hopping to a standstill on flighty feet.

“Do you see any holes in me, love?” Tracer replied, laughing as she reloaded her guns. “I'm _fine_ Mercy, I’ve got everything covered. Don't get your knickers in a knot.”

“I'm not- Just at least try to stay out of trouble.” Mercy said, and Tracer could practically hear her shoulders slump. “My caduceus staff can only do so much.”

“Gotcha, love.” Tracer said, before blinking forward again, conversation already on the backburner. Two goons were in the place of their former comrade, guns raised to try and challenge their unseen assailant. But neither of them were any more prepared than the first - one was greeted with a shot in the side of the head, the other to the butt of her gun whacking him across the neck. She fired a couple of shots into them both, just to make sure, before she zipped forward and around the next corner. No gunfire followed her this time; the sounds of an incredibly angry gorilla in the distance made it quickly clear why.

“Have you got the square under control?”  
  
“Almost.” Came the reply, panted in a breath Tracer wasn’t sure Mercy should of spared. The sound of primal roaring and gunfire spat through the microphone at random intervals.  
  
“Almost?”

“Above.” Mercy panted, “We can't get to the snipers. Got our hands full here. There’s too many down here, we have to tank them or they’ll get into the storehouse.”

“On in. Look after yourself, alright? Nobody here’s any good at healing the healer.” Tracer replied, doubling back in a heartbeat to take a fire exit up two steps at a time. The metal rattled under her feet unconvincingly but she soldiered on, letting her body wrap around the spiral staircase until her feet landed on the concrete of the rooftop. She could see the snipers as soon as she left the stairs, tucked in and around the square Overwatch was defending so valiantly in a overhanging bridge like apartment setup. She could see the fancy dark wood behind them - it was going to be a right shame to put a bullet hole or three in it. Then again, the men that used it as cover, they had broken into those people’s houses, displacing hundreds while this battle ran it’s course; the benefits outweighed the costs.

She set off at a running pace, letting herself blink forward as soon as her feet left the ground. Despite her telltale trail it seemed like the snipers hadn't noticed her yet, their fire focused on the ground where she could see Winston and D.Va’s mech holding off the waves of men trying to get their hands on their precious ‘payload’. The familiar blue beam followed them both, focusing particularly on Winston as he slammed two Talon agents into a wall with his bare hands. She winced - human or omnic, that had to hurt and sometimes she was glad the scientist was on her side and not theirs. To be fair though, Winston (or really, any Overwatch agent) was too talented. The agents couldn't focus fire if their lives depended on it -  it was like they were trying to miss!

Of course, there were some very notable exceptions to that statement - but they weren’t here. Frankly, they were the least of Tracer’s worries right now.

Seeing an opening, she swung herself through an open window into a lavish looking room. Bullet holes riddled the furniture and feathers plumed across the bed. The smell of gunpowder and smoke was heavy in the air, kicking her heart into double time. Talon agents had most certainly been through here. Barreling into the hallway, that was proven true and she quickly started firing off down the hall. Rifles weren’t made for close combat, if she could just duck in and out-

-And she yelled as one, two bullets buried themselves in her shoulder, pain blossoming dark and searing to made her grit her teeth and hold back a yell. It took her a moment to remember to _rewind, rewind_ , that’ll help that’ll make it all better and better it did. She let herself be pulled back, feel the curious sensation of the pain concentrating on her shoulder again before lifting altogether and she was back on her feet none worse for wear. Physically, at least. Mentally her mind was still reeling, phantom pain quickly fading from where she had been injured. 

_Let’s try that again._

This time her bullets didn’t miss and with her initial rounds already hindering the snipers it didn’t take much more to bring them down. _Bang_ into the chest _bang bang_ in the kneecaps, darting through the enemy lines to shoot them in the back before they even registered she was gone. Following her when she wasn’t phasing through reality was hard enough - when her feet barely touched the ground as she let herself be pulled back and forth through the slipstream of time? Well, it was a wonder they lasted as long as they did. She kicked the bodies out the window, turning away before she could see them ragdoll to the ground.  
  
“I’m done up here - should be no more problems, Mercy!”  
  
“How many did you find?”  
  
“Three, why?”  
  
“Tracer, there were four or five, I saw some move off before you-” The communicator fizzled out before Mercy could finish, gunfire making the speaker pop painfully before it switched off. Tracer couldn't help but let out a sigh. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy - but if that was only three of them...

“ _Tracer_!”

She heard her name, but it was the voice that made her stop. Familiar and… Scared? She couldn't help but look back. But the face that greeted her was no civilian, not even a fellow Overwatch member. No, those were eyes the color of acid that met hers, unmistakable from their many dances together on the battlefield - but never had she even looked vaguely close to _scared._

“Widowma-?!”  
  
Before she could even get the woman’s name off her lips, _bang bang!_ Two gunshots went off in quick succession and Widowmaker yelled as she fell to the ground at Tracer’s feet. Fingers grasped at what skin she could of her back; already Tracer could see blood spilling from between her fingers.  
  
“Oi, what’s your problem?!” Tracer yelled, her pistols instantly pointing at the culprit, His skull like gas mask hid any clue to his identity, much like his comrades before him. However, this one could apparently aim and had Widowmaker of all people running scared. If he had an answer though he didn’t say it, only going to squeeze the trigger again.

Or at least, he would have if Tracer hadn’t zipped forward and barreled into him, sending the rifle flying just as the bullet fired. The sound of the shot right next to her ear was unpleasant - but not as unpleasant as the damage that bullet could have done if it had found it’s target true. They landed in a dog pile on the ground, Tracer’s arm digging into the man’s neck. She could feel his breath rasping through as he clawed at her. In her earlier days this would have been the split second that she paused, that she looked down at the agent and felt pity and guilt and anger all rolled into one in a special blend only a soldier truly knew. Now though she shot him in the head, leapt back as the killing wound began to smoke and the body fell back limp. These days she knew that mercy was found in a quick death… A quirk that Widowmaker seemed to share.

She was back to the fallen woman in an instant, looking over her wounds with a growing sense of horror. Widowmaker’s back was nothing but red, and it stuck to Tracer’s hands as she tried to find the wounds, the entry points. She could hear Angela’s voice in her ear, Winston’s too, that the enemy was retreating and that the warehouse goods were accounted for and safe but she wasn’t even registering the words right now. All she could focus on was the wounds. God, she couldn’t even see them through all the blood but there were definitely more than one - what the hell had caused all of this? A part of Tracer was screaming at her to _stop, no, don’t, you know what will happen if you help, she’s still armed!_ And the thoughts made her hands unsure, her mantra returning to her _blink blink fire_ **_rewind._ ** But then Widowmaker looked up at her - how was she even still conscious? - with a face that looked pale even for her.  
  
“ _Lena._ ”  
  
That was the moment where Widowmaker too fell limp, from shock or something else Tracer didn’t know - but in that moment her mind had been made up.  
  
“Angela?”

“Yes?”

“ I- There’s somebody here you need to see.”

-x-

“So she's going to be okay?” Lena asked, swinging her legs under the bench she was perched on as she looked over to Angela. The woman was just pulling off her gloves, disposing of them promptly as she moved around the small medical bay. Various cupboards and shelves lined the walls, all shut and locked saved for one which the doctor in question dealt with promptly, letting the latch click into place. Behind her on the bed was a motionless Widowmaker, facing towards the wall with her chest moving so slowly Lena wasn’t sure it was moving at all. She could see gause peeking over a pale shoulder, the rest of her body covered in a thin blanket.

“Assuming her body doesn't go into shock again, yes, she should be okay.” Angela replied. “Of course, considering how…. Unique her biology is now, I can't say for sure.” She said the word ‘unique’ much the same way a child would say the location of their cookie stash; begrudgingly and with loathing. “The blood tests I ran showed some unique forms of adrenaline within her bloodstream that seem to be working alongside some form of beta-blocker, but I cannot know for sure until I've further studies the samples. I would study her further, but that's a task I reserve for conscious patients.”  She worried at her lip for a moment more before sitting down on a wheeled stool with a sigh. “And I'm not yet sure how cooperative a conscious Widowmaker will be.”

“Why do you think she’s going to be uncooperative, Ang?” Lena said, her brow furrowing.  
  
“We can’t simply ignore the fact she’s a Talon agent.” Angela replied. “As much as I want to give her the benefit of the doubt we’ve suffered because of that before. We can’t let our guard down against the deadliest assassin in Talon and you know that as well as I do.”

“She came to me in the field though! She got _shot_ right in front of me- She said my name, Ang. With me and her on the field it’s always been Tracer this, Tracer that. Not _Lena._ What part of that is saying ‘I am a Talon agent’ to you?” Angela shot her a look; too quickly Lena realized she had raised her voice too loud. Passionate about the subject she was, but it was the middle of the night and there was a sleeping patient. Instead of shooing Lena away though, Angela pointed to the hallway outside. Lena obediently trotted out, and turned to see the doctor following close behind. She pulled the door shut behind her, locking it. For the first time Lena could see the outline of Angela’s blaster under her heavy coat, the way her shoulders didn’t quite settle.

“Look, Lena.” Angela said, and her voice was tired in the way that failed to hide how much longer she had been on her feet compared to the rest of the team from today. “I didn’t see what went on between the two of you tonight. For all I know, she’s back,” and Angela paused awkwardly after she said that, as if willing herself to continue, be rational “but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”  
  
“And how do you think she’s going to react to being locked up, huh?” Lena said in reply. “You think her waking up and finding herself in a tiny room is going to make her think she made the right choice?”

“This is my medical opinion Lena-”  
  
“Screw your bloody medical opinion!” Lena bit back in reply, brown eyes livid. “She’s scared and she came to us and she deserves better than to be treated like an _animal-”_ _  
_ _  
_ “ **Lena.** ” Angela snapped, and the harshness of her tone made Lena’s words trip over themselves as they came to a halt. Instantly regret crashed over her; god, she had just shouted at a doctor and one that had be working tirelessly from the moment they had stepped into battle at King’s Row. Since they had gotten back to base, Lena had been able to have a shower, throw up her feet, eat a decent meal. Looking over Angela now, Lena could tell she hadn’t been able to do the same. Her hair was escaping from it’s high ponytail, her bangs shadowing most of her face. Grime clung to the corners of her features; Lena could see the faintest smudge of blood beneath her chin.  
  
“Sorry, love.” She said. At the apology, Angela’s face softened.  
  
“It’s okay. I know it’s not easy to be confronted like that, especially knowing she was once a former Overwatch agent.” The older woman rested a hand on Lena shoulders, and even just that touch seemed to help the stress leak out of her muscles. “And believe me Lena; I want to give her the freedom you want to, I really do. But I just can’t. That mistake been made before, I’m not making it again.”  
  
“I get you.” Lena said. “And if she’s on her best behaviour from here on out?”  
  
“Then I’d be happy to review her current freedoms and such.” Angela said. “Believe me when I say this isn’t entirely up to me. Winston alone has already confessed serious doubts to me regarding Widowmaker as a whole, let alone your story.”  
  
“But you can be a right sight convincing if you want to be, huh?”  
  
“Exactly.” Angela said, eyes twinkling. “Of course, don’t tell Winston I said that.”  
  
“Oh, he knows already, love.” Lena said with a grin. 

-x-  
  
“You _can’t_ be serious.” 

“Oh, we’re very serious. More than that, we’re certain that you are perfect for the job.” The general leaned over the desk, fingers steepled in front of him. Guards flanked him on either side, hefty guns at ease but not out of the picture. Of course they wouldn’t be - Talon hadn’t risen to become the underground empire it was today by being the trusting sort, even of their own soldiers. Plus, Widowmaker prided herself on her reputation - and her reputation was the sort that made a man hold a gun a bit closer to his chest.

“It is a waste of my abilities. Surely you can see that I would be of much more use here.”  
  
“Perhaps you don’t understand the situation then,” He replied. “This is a chance for us to rid ourselves of the fumbling remains of Overwatch for good.”  
  
“I’ve already been a sleeper agent once.” Widowmaker said bluntly. “They’re not going to buy it again.”  
  
“Which is why you’re going to make them buy it.” The general replied. “For us to use the same plan again would be foolish. But we’re not.” Cold eyes met with hers - if she had any feeling left in her veins her mouth would have gone dry, but instead she met the gaze with her own unwavering.

“Then what do you want me to do?”  
  
“Return to Overwatch.” He replied. “Make it seem like you’ve _repented._ Make them believe that they’ve got their sweet Amélie back, and when you've got them under your thumb deal with them as you would any other target.”  
  
“Reporting?”  
  
“Will be done remotely. This will be a long time operation, Widowmaker, Don’t delude yourself on that front.”  
  
“I wasn’t.” The general looked like he was going to push the issue further but stopped shy, mouth thinning.  
  
“You will be required to administer your own injections.” He said, gesturing to a nondescript case on the side of his desk. “The chemical concentration has been increased so you can go an extended period of time without a dose, which should prevent . Minimise any occurrence of Talon paraphernalia on you - we don’t want them suspecting anything.”  
  
“Yes.” Widowmaker replied simply. The urge was there to bite back, to say that she wasn’t that dumb, but it was easy to repress.  
  
“The estimated time frame of this mission is six months, however we will be relying on your expertise to determine whether this is appropriate. As long as results are gained, we don’t mind the ends.”

“You don’t mind?”  
  
“Do what’s required, Widowmaker. If that means we end up with dead agents or lost intel on our end we’ll accommodate. If you don’t they may terminate your mission early - and you. Your mission is high confidentiality; regular orders will be given to kill Overwatch agents on site and that should include you.” His voice was unwavering, cold - emotion was an unknown concept within these sterile walls. At the very  least, it was an unknown concept to her. After all, one didn’t need to truly know anger or sadness or joy to reap the satisfaction of a kill. “Any other questions?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then clear your room. You won’t be there again until you’re finished with Overwatch.”  


“As you wish.”  
  
-x-  
  
Consciousness was a struggle, a groggy climb that seems to throw her off more than anything else that she could remember thus far. _Groggy_ wasn’t even a word that she could have put a feeling to until now; to Widowmaker, sleep was a non event usually but trying to wake up now was like wading through treacle. It made the pain of her back feel like an impenetrable haze, her movements as she tried pulled herself up to a sitting position feel unskilled in a way that put her on edge. Or well, would have put her on edge if she hadn’t immediate had to stifle a yell into the meat of her thumb. Blinding pain laced up her back, making her see stars as she immediately fell back unceremoniously onto her shoulder.  
  
_Fuck,_ that hurt; and that was over her dulled pain sensory system and heightened adrenaline. When she was back in direct contact with Talon she was going to murder whoever said they could shoot her in the back; and that wasn’t a metaphorical statement.

Though now she thought about it _,_ it did give her a unique advantage in this situation. She was weakened and, if the absence of Widow’s Kiss was any indication, completely unarmed. Even the cabinets were carefully locked up - anything that she could use to cause some sort of damage was carefully stowed away from her. A predictable move by Overwatch, if inconvenient, but it had given her a much better leverage point in return.

After all, right now she was likely on bed rest - and what better time to start making her case than when she was _weak_ and _defenseless_? Draw them in with sympathy and destroy them through the same kindness they showed her the first time. It was almost poetic how it was playing out before her eyes, and Widowmaker couldn't deny the part of her that delighted in the feeling.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by the the metallic _clack, clack, clack_ of the doors unlocking, heavy metal sliding into place and parting. Gritting her teeth, Widowmaker was able to pull herself up to a sitting position, back pounding as she pulled at the tender skin. She shouldn't have bothered though, as none other than the good doctor herself came into the room - she could immediately see Mercy’s mouth thin as she took in her position.

“Widowmaker, please lie back down on your stomach.” She said. Her tone was curiously sharp; an oddity that surely came of the way her carefully masked expression.

“ _Oui_.” She purred, rolling onto her stomach and watching as Mercy’s brow twitched. A curious thing indeed - had she been like this last time they had sat together, doctor and patient?

“Hold out your arm, please.” She said, Widowmaker complying wordlessly. She had few memories of that first operation, the one that had ended with her former husband shot dead between the eyes and she, the huntress fully realised. Even the definitive act itself she remembered in a haze, the first time she had felt alive nothing more than the high she ever clambered after. But had Mercy been like this when they had last met like this? Clinical was understandable considering the context, but there was a certain hardness to the woman’s eyes, a fleetingness to her touch that implied distance she wanted to keep between them. And while her lab coat had emblazoned on it _Dr Angela Ziegler_ in neat black embroidery she had made no move to introduce herself, to separate the war medic and the doctor currently looking her over.

How curious indeed.

“I’ll be removing the gauze to look at your wounds - this may hurt.” Angela said. She paused, only for a moment as she finished unlacing the top of Widowmaker’s gown, waiting for an objection that never came. When she was sure it wasn’t coming, slim fingers started to move systematically down her back, tearing away the bandages. The tension on the damaged skin was enough to make Widowmaker grit her teeth, nails digging into the thin mattress beneath her. Thankfully Mercy was nothing if not efficient, pulling away the last of it to leave it open to the air. It throbbed slowly, a steady pulse along with her heart; behind her she could hear Mercy humming as she looked over the healing skin.  
  
“It seems you are healing at a faster than anticipated rate.” She said. As she nudged one of the more tender places Widowmaker couldn’t help but let breath hiss out from between her teeth. “It may not feel like it, but you are showing the same rate of healing in a day that would take most patients upwards of a week to experience. Though I can credit some of that to nanobiology, I suspect that some of that also comes from the chemicals that keep you… Well, like this.” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow at the ineloquent phrasing but said no more.  
  
“There is a reason I have survived so long.” Widowmaker said.  
  
“Among others, I’m sure”, Mercy replied. She reached over to a clipboard perched on one of the cabinets and started to scrawl, quick flicks of chicken scratch. “You will be on bed rest for the foreseeable future until your wounds have healed, regardless. After that… We shall see.”  
  
“That is rather ominous, doctor.” Widowmaker said pointedly.  
  
“Can you blame me for wishing to be careful?” She replied. “I do not think I need to state the obvious.”

Any further attempts to talk to her were met with… Well, not exactly hostility, but her words were short, sharp, backed by the sort of finality you couldn't argue with. Widowmaker could hear the sound of scratching away behind her as she made what sounded to be extensive notes on her form. After a few more minutes spent redressing her wound, she straightened.

“That is all I need from you today.” She said simply, meeting her eyes for what seemed like the first time since she had walked into the room. “Your vital signs have stabilized and while your heartbeat and core temperature are well below average I suspect that is less to do with your injuries and more with your… Unique biology.” She paused, tapping the end of her pen against her lip before continuing. “Is there any chance you know something about the treatments you have undergone? I will be able to more efficiently treat you if I know what I am dealing with.” Widowmaker could see the flash of something bright in her eyes. Curiosity? Hope? It was the first real sign of humanity the woman had shown since walking in the door, and it wasn’t even conscious.  
  
“I am a soldier, not a doctor.” She said carefully - which was true. She could not formulate what was injected into her veins in a lab, nor give her a list of what exactly the concoction that made her who she was actually did to her. “A simple pawn of Talon would not be given the tools of her own success, would she? Much more convenient to keep her on a leash, able to be... _Reasoned_ with.” Mercy did not need to know of the vials that were stashed so close by, the fact she could call in more at any moment; a lie in Widowmaker’s eyes perfectly executed and one that Mercy brought with little fight. Widowmaker even took a slight satisfaction in the way the light faded from the doctor’s eyes.

“Very well then. Are you feeling any other discomforts?”

“You would be the first to know.” Widowmaker said smoothly. She turned her head to the side and watched as the woman got up, stretched; she saw how even without her Valkyrie get-up on her weight was shifted onto her left leg. She remembered her getting the injury, watched through her sights as a Talon soldier had tried to clip her moments before Tracer had shot him in the head. Clearly it still bothered her - an exploitable difference.

“Then I shall be off.” Mercy said, hugging the clipboard to her chest. “Dinner will be provided for you later if you wish to eat - I assume you do not have any special dietary requirements? I have nothing written down...” She paused for a moment, once again waiting for an answer that never came. There was no reason for Widowmaker to speak, so why should she? It was not an answer that Mercy seemed to take well however, shifting her weight to her bad leg for just a moment before back again. Flighty. “I will make sure you are sent the same meal that is being served to the rest of the body tonight then.”  
  
“That sounds lovely, ma cherie.” Widowmaker purred, lips curling as she watched Mercy’s grip tighten against the clipboard, her words hesitant and spoken too kindly as she said her goodbyes and the door clicking shut behind her.

 _Perhaps this will be more challenging than I thought._ _  
  
_

-x-

Widowmaker life fell into a cycle after that, the days blending together into an indistinguishable haze. Meals were delivered, she’d have her checkup and she’d fall asleep once more. She knew it had barely been a week and it wasn’t really enough time to go stir crazy, but there was only so many times one could trace the edges of the room with her eyes and later her hands before she could recall them with her eyes shut. She felt like a trapped animal - and indeed, perhaps she was. A spider, caught in a jar, unable to even spin a web to catch the unsuspecting; though she supposed that the security camera none too subtly planted in one corner of the room would put any stop to web building she tried. The books left in her room after the first couple of days helped to ease her boredom; but only barely.

It wasn’t until one evening that Widowmaker was pulled out of her new routine; buried in the tales of _Once A Dancer_ she did not expect to hear the sound of approaching footsteps, nor the _rat-a-tat_ on the door that was most certainly not the kitchen staff - the footsteps were lighter, flightier; she could hear the stranger rocking on them as she waited for an answer.  
  
“Yes?” She called out, curious.  
  
“Hiya!” A cheerful voice replied. “It’s me - was wondering if you were wanting a little company.”  
  
“...Sure.” Widowmaker replied after a moment, moving her bookmark to the current page as the door unlocked in front of her. What on earth did Tracer want with her? Sure, she had played the puppy eyes trick on her to get here in the first place, but it had been too long for this to be a post-mission ‘holy shit are you still alive’ visit. Still, she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and she let a pleasant smile settle on her face as a familiar brunette entered the room.

It was more of a shock than she realized it would be to see the woman out of her combat gear - she supposed it came from the fact she had never needed to think about it. Tracer was too closely watched to successfully launch an attack against in civilian wear; it would be too likely that Talon’s deep grip in the many businesses of the world would be exposed in the process, taking down the entire organisation with it. They were powerful - but unfortunately, not that powerful yet. Tracer gave a little wave.  
  
“Hey!” She said again, peppy. A quick glance around the room had Tracer spying the chair Mercy used during their appointments. She quickly pulled it up, plopping down into it and spinning around on it with the exuberance of a woman half her age.

”Sorry I didn’t come check on you earlier; Ang’ had a bit of a stick up her ass about ‘interrupting your recovery’.”  
  
“It is quite alright.” Widowmaker replied, quickly realising just how out of depth she was. Already her instincts were trying to kick in - Tracer and her regularly faced off on the battlefield, and she could feel her fingers twitch. She wanted to pull a trigger, throw a punch at those too-smiley cheeks; her bedsheet perhaps could make a good makeshift rope to choke the life out of her. But this wasn’t about killing her; she was supposedly _redeemed_ , had seen the light in the middle of combat and had left that all behind. But that left her with that fact that now conversation was a thing she had to do - and that was something that left her at a blank. She fumbled for an appropriate topic. “I should thank you for not shooting me when I came to you, Tracer. I did not get the chance while we were together before-”  
  
“Please, call me Lena.” The woman butted in, giving Widowmaker a dazzling grin. “If you’re gonna be sticking ‘round like you said, might as well get down to first name basis, yeah?”  
  
“I suppose.” Widowmaker replied, fiddling with the edge of the bookmark. “Though my name is still Widowmaker.”  
  
“What, the name Amélie mean nada zip to you?” Lena asked, leaning forward in her seat curiously.  
  
“I have few memories of the time when that name meant anything to me.” She said. _Said with love as a man she did not recognise and whose ring she wore ran to hold her tight. The name said over and over, cries of love and thankfulness that should have made her felt something but which fell far short. Choked out as she pointed the gun to the head of a man that would birth a legend; a spider hungered, after all, for her partner’s head._ “It seems strange to use a name that was not meant for me.”  
  
“But it _is_ your name, love. It's no skin off my back what I call you - just weird to call you something I did when you’re tryin’ to kill me, yeah?”

 _But I still am,_ was the reply Widowmaker did not voice. She bit her tongue as she tried to flounder for another reply. There was just something that was so unnerving about just trying to…Make conversation.

“I do not feel as if my name is Amélie”, and she said the name with the sort of tiptoe respect one gives a word they’re not sure if they can say, “I have operated as Widowmaker for too long to consider myself anything else at this stage.”  
  
“Then I shall call you that, Wido-enna!” Lena said brightly, smiling as Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. “Winnie? Widonia? Wiggle waggle?”  
  
“Widowmaker is perfectly acceptable.” She said cooly in reply. “And I hardly think _wiggle waggle_ appropriate.”  
  
“Aw, you’re no fun.” Lena said, hoisting her feet up on top of the chair to hold with two hands. She cocked her head to the side, musing for a moment. “How’s the back feeling, anyway? Still see you’re wearing the old hospital gown.”  
  
“It is recovering.” Widowmaker replied, her arm coming up to her shoulder. The area was still tender, flushed in the places where new skin had formed. “I am not a doctor though, and there is limited exercise that I can do in here - not that Mercy is eager for me to do so.” At the name, Lena’s face immediately settled into a frown.  
  
“For the record, I’m not exactly a fan of what she’s doing here.”  
  
“I did not see you as the one to do such a thing,” Widowmaker replied, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“What, question whether Overwatch is doing the right thing or not? I’d be a dipshit not to”, She said.

“That’s how it all got dragged down to the ground last time, ‘innit? Nobody looked too close until it was all over - and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

_You will fall though, ma chérie, and this time you will not be able to blame it on political dealings. Last time Overwatch fell because of corruption and abuse, but this time you will look down my barrel and know it was your stupidity that was the downfall of Overwatch._

But Widowmaker did not say the words, only smiled and commented on how admirable her words were. After all; it wouldn’t matter at the end of the day how passionate Lena was - it was going to end the same way, and she was going to be the one to end it. 

At least Lena made for passable conversation.  
  
-x-  
  
The weeks after passed too slow and too fast for Lena, business as usual and yet so distinctively _not._ Overwatch was getting more replies to the recall by the day, agents that had barely been heard from and scattered to the winds as mercenaries returning their calls with more and more frequency. She was pretty sure nobody had been quite ready for the way that Reinhardt and Torbjorn had burst into Gibraltar with a keg under each of their arms and booming voices - when Winston had questioned them while soothing frazzled hair back into place why he hadn’t heard _something_ from them before their dramatic entrance Reinhardt had just bellowed “You say that like you were expecting us _not_ to come back!”. Other responses had been less intense but equally as promising; McCree’s communicator had been the first to fire back up, and Genji’s had been right behind. Informal drills were already being scheduled into her day, when they weren’t being packed away on missions.  
  
However, Lena couldn’t ignore how there _was_ a difference now, and that difference was the woman with blue skin and sharp eyes in the medical bay room 2B. A woman whose existence had been narrowed to a few square metres of floor space and whom visiting felt as if she was taunting some sort of wild beast. And yet, Widowmaker had never felt so _human,_ more than just a name, figure and a sniper rifle. Perhaps it was her good to a fault nature - and she fully admitted that was a possibility here - but there was something different in the way that Widowmaker interacted with her, seemingly so genuinely that made her want to delve deeper, push further. She had even convinced Hana to come hang out with her and Widowmaker a few times, and while the two had begrudgingly gotten along at first it had only taken a few games of Mario Kart to get the two talking… Even if it was to taunt each other and leave Lena in the dust.

But Widowmaker was human. She was awkward and her words didn’t slot together properly all the time and she seemed to get caught up in trains of thought at the drop of a hat. But she listened. She entertained Tracer’s babbling and fidgeting beyond what was necessary - and it only made the current situation all the more _frustrating.  
_  
“No. I will not allow it.”  
  
“Winston, love, please think about this-”  
  
“If you thought I was going to take this easily you have mixed me up with the wrong scientist. I am not arming Widowmaker, in any capacity _._ ” Winston snapped, settling onto his hunches with his nostrils flaring. “Do you even realise what you are suggesting, Lena? This is no ordinary agent we’re dealing with here - Widowmaker is one of the most highly classed terrorists there are.”  
  
“Yeah, so what?” Lena huffed, hands curling into fists at her hips. “You’re forgetting that we’re not exactly seen as the most legal bunch either - hell, McCree has a bloody _bounty_ on his head and I've seen actual criminals with smaller lots on their heads that him!”  
  
“McCree is a different case and you know it.” 

“And McCree hasn't acted unfavorably in the sense of the law since Overwatch recruited him.” Angela added, sighing as she crossed her legs. “Scapegoating and actual criminal behavior are very different things.”  
  
“Look, loves. You know I have nothing against the guy, right? But worst case scenario, McCree’s not that much bloody better than Widowmaker is. He hijacked a train!”

“When there were Talon forces about.” Angela said. “The two aren't comparable.”

“What, bounties on their heads, former Overwatch agents? Don't sound so different to me.” Winston just sighed, leaning forward on the desk in front of him.  
“Lena, as much as we’d love to we just don't have the evidence that Widowmaker isn't going to revert back to a Talon agent the moment she has some wiggle room. Her medical reports are coming up with no visible improvements despite her isolation, and there's no way to test her claims of loyalty without putting a number of operatives in needless danger.”

“So what are you gonna do then? Let her rot away in there?”

“We have been considering contacting the mainland authorities-”

“- _You_ have been”, Angela quickly corrected Winston, glaring at him. “ _My_ plans for the foreseeable future are to assist in her immediate recovery and encourage the retention of as much muscle as possible. After that I will start further research into possible cures for her current condition - initial results are prompting for some sort of adrenaline administration, but I would not be moving forward from that until I am confident in the exact chemical makeup.”

“So you're just going to… _Leave_ her in there?”

“We have little other choice unless she starts to show signs of improvement, and even with my medical knowledge I am unsure how long that will take. She claims to only have come here to escape Talon and ultimately join our cause, but I worry those goals are too vague to be entirely accurate.”

“But she came to us for help!”

“And it wouldn't be the last time that Overwatch was asked of something we couldn’t give.” Mercy said before sighing and rubbing her temples. “I would like nothing, _nothing_ more than for me to be able to say that we have the old Amélie back - but the fact of the matter is that I can’t say that for sure. I’m not letting my medical opinion endanger people. Not again.”  
  
“Ang…” Lena leaned out, tried to grab the doctor by the sleeve of her lab coat but the woman pulled away as her fingers grazed the cotton. Her face was heavy, troubled; she looked her age, something that concerned Lena more than everything else. The moment was short though, as she seemed to snap back into a focus that Lena was much more used to seeing - but it was like seeing the curtains closing over a stormy night. Out of sight, but not out of mind anymore.  
  
“Angela and myself will talk about any further options,” Winston said, looking to Lena with soft eyes that said they too saw that pain “However, unless we have proof beyond reasonable doubt that Widowmaker will stand by us we cannot further pursue your request. You are dismissed.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Dismissed.” 

-x-  
  
Lena knew something was wrong the moment the lights went out.

The sun had barely settled over the sea, the bright oranges of the late evening winking out over the water into the dark purples of the night, a slither of moon hanging in the sky. The light barely reached into her room, let alone illuminating her room in any way. She’d flicked off her main lights in favor of leaving her desk lamp illuminating her room just so - not that she needed the light all that much with the chronal accelerator strapped pretty much permanently to her chest. She let her fingers run up and down the metal, the tap of her fingers in time with the tick of her clock.

“Just sixty more.” She promised herself, even as the words rang hollow. _Tap-tap-tap, tap tap tap_ went her fingers as they ran down the metal again. “Fifty four until I get up.” Her eyes settled on the towel hanging over the back of her chair - orange, soft, fluffy. Anybody else would be happy to wrap themselves up in it. But just at the thought she could feel her heart starting to hammer faster in her chest, her throat start to constrict, her other hand tightening around the strap around her chest. Just a few more, just a few more… Wait, what number was she at again? She tried to calm her breath and her jackrabbit heart. _Time to start again._ _  
_ _  
_ But then the room was plunged into darkness, and suddenly showering was the last thing on her mind. Instantly the chronal accelerator hummed into full power on her chest, flooding the room with light as she grabbed her bomber jacket and pistols. Already she could tell it was bad, feel it deep in her bones - if there was going to be a power outage they would have been warned at least a few hours ago, and more concerningly the backup generators hadn’t started up yet. _Just a coincidence,_ she tried to tell herself, but her words hung as hollow as before.  
  
Her footsteps were too quiet in the hallway, echoing in the darkness that was illuminated perhaps too much by her chest. With a _blink, blink_ she shot herself forward, feet barely skimming the tiles under her feel as she reached the door outside, out to the road that traced its way through the entirety of the Gibraltar base. In the still of the night, she heard the first shots ring out from the warehouse.  
  
_Shit._

She had smashed through the fire alarm glass before she had fully registered she was going for it, fingers gripping around the lever and yanking down _hard_ . But there was no response, nothing; Lena rattled the lever a few times in it’s place, up and down a few times - surely _something_ had to work, right? But as she looked to the screen above the emergency panel she was greeted not by the Overwatch symbol but by a dark haze over the screen. As she watch it started to settle, turn blue-red and a skull appear in the middle of the screen.  
  
_Double shit._ _  
_ _  
_ Abandoning the compromised emergency switch she carried herself forward as fast as she could, accelerator blazing a blue line behind her as she made a beeline for the storage facilities. Shit, they couldn’t afford for anything to be compromised in there at the moment - D.Va’s mech was in there, for one, as well as various supply caches of food, water… Petrol. God, if they shot a bullet the wrong way at one of those tanks - or worse, one of her plasma shots pierced it. She gritted her teeth - they couldn't risk losing Gibraltar right now, not with Overwatch having barely been recalled. The thought was unbelievable - and yet the sounds of battle were growing louder still.

“Lena.” A familiar voice called to her - when Tracer turned she was greeted by a familiar slit face mask, glowing green in the dark night and calming her just the slightest.

“Genji?”  


“Hello.” He said, words formal but with an edge of cheekiness as he spoke. “I would love to speak more, but it seems there are more urgent matters at hand.”  
  
“You don’t say love.” She said. “You wanna get them from above while I pop off down here and try and hit them while they're not expecting it?”

“A good idea.” Genji replied. “Winston and Angela are currently fighting at the other end of the complex.”

“Have you seen Hana?”

“The streamer? I haven't. I did not even realize she was here. I will alert you if I see her”, he tapped the side of his helmet, “you have your communicator in, correct?”

“Oh, _bloody hell_ ”, she swore. “Barely had time to even get my jacket on, I must’ve left it sitting on my desk.”  
  
“We’ll improvise.” Genji replied. With a nod from them both Lena watch Genji shoot his way up to the top platforms in the blink of an eye, slipping inside the top door before she too dashed forward and in and around the corner. The large main door was closed and if the dents against it said anything that was for the better; Lena pulled her guns up to her chest and felt the plasma whirr to life within.  
  
She was on the first men before they even knew she was there, knocking one of them into a wall with her shoulder as she fired her first pulses into the chest of the second man. Flinging herself back in time to escape the retaliating shots she could hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed, sharp even over the chaos of the warehouse - the first body quickly followed.

They sliced through the intruders slowly but surely; sure, Lena’s heart was hammering in her chest and she had needed to throw herself behind crates more times than she could count ( _blink, blink, fire, rewind)_ but they were at least making progress, shaving through the warehouse and up to the slope where Angela (Mercy? was this a time for call signs?) and Winston were trying to hold off the brunt of the attacking forces. But that was the thing that was only becoming more and more clear as she pushed forward; these weren’t regular soldiers. These were shock troops; little armour and armed to the teeth. They had been counting on surprise and had bloody well near gotten it.

She vaulted over D.Va’s abandoned mech, the metal still cold to the touch as she ran up to where Winston and Mercy were.  
  
“Glad you could make it.” Winston said with a smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Lena could see how much his shoulders were heaving with exertion.  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She said, giving him a cheeky salute before _blink, blink_ ing across the room, disrupting a small group of soldiers that had made camp to fire at Winston from an alcove. Taken by surprise they scattered, making it all the easier to pick them off. But she was getting tired, she could feel it - things that shouldn't have been close calls were getting close to becoming that, with punches being thrown that were only just not landing and shots whisking past too close for comfort. She had to whisk herself back as she felt one, two, three shots sink themselves into her leg, shattering the bone, rupturing the muscle _rewind._

“Everybody stop what you’re doing!”

It was not a voice Lena recognized - that it seemed any of them recognized and as it boomed over the battlefield the world seemed to lapse into a shocked silence. It was broken by the sound of feet scuffing against the metal flooring up above - a struggle? But her initial confusion made way to horror as she saw exactly why; as she saw a gruff older man dragging in a worse for wear Hana. Lena watched her still as the gun dug further into her back, as two more masked men flanked her one to each side. The room was silent.

“What do you wa-”

“Hush, monkey.” The man sneered - Lena could hear the resulting growl of anger but Winston remained silent nonetheless. “You're all going to listen to _me_ now or the girl gets it.” Lena saw Hana start to retaliate, eyes wide with anger, but her protests were cut off with a gasp of breath she just as much saw as she heard. Lena gulped.

“Weapons down.” Lena could feel the weights of scopes on her, could practically feel the whisper of metal in the air already. “ _Now.”_ She placed her pistols on the floor, watched the others do the same. Even Genji placed his katana on the ground - she shot him a nervous look. He was on the other side of the upper catwalk; even with his inhuman jumping ability he wouldn’t be able to cross that gap nearly fast enough before the fatal shot was fired - and there were too many eyes on him to get any shuriken out.  
  
She hated the look in that man’s eyes right now, as he could see his grip tighten around Hana’s hands. It was full of malice, a hard coldness only broken by the enjoyment that he seemed to extract from each wary and scared face in front of him. Jabbing the gun into Hana’s back and drinking in the way she shuddered involuntarily in his grasp.  
  
“Now, I’m only going to say this once, so listen here-”  
  
A gunshot fired.  
  
-x-  
  
He fell like anybody else.  
  
The barrel of Widow’s Kiss smoked ever so slightly, the smell of ash hitting her as she watched the man go limp, fall backwards like she had cut his strings. Satisfaction flowed through her like a flood, like a drug thick and syrupy as the room exploded back into action. She watched as Hana sprung forward, throwing a punch to one of the two flanking men’s faces before shoving the other off the catwalk itself with a shoulder push. Down on the ground she could see the gorilla scientist (Winston, wasn’t it?) roar into action, Tesla Cannon forgotten as he slammed two guards down into the concrete hard enough for the ground to shake. The thrill of the kill made her body sing, her fingertips buzz and it directed her every shot after that.  
  
She chased after the pleasure of a job well done until her crosshairs landed once more. Landed on a woman with a glowing chest and a glowing smile, who laughed as she zipped around the room like she knew it like the back of her hand. But of course she did - she was an Overwatch agent, this was a base for the organisation both in the old times and the new. But why did she feel like she knew this place, knew that smile when it wasn’t illuminated by blue light? Something scratched at the back of her mind, begging to be let in; the sound of laughter and the roar of jet engines and the phantom feeling of her heart beating faster in her chest-  
  
She was delaying her shot.  
  
Widowmaker recognised that, saw it in the way her pulls of breath didn’t match up to the rhythm of her fire, and yet it didn’t make her any less frustrated that she was doing it. _One shot, one kill_ was her mantra and yet she found herself not **wanting** to take that shot.

That was surely a mistake of course - her conditioning made sure that was a impossibility and the more she looked into it logically the more reason she found for keeping Lena- Tracer alive. For one, it was far too early to kill her off. After all, one shot into her and the others would immediately realise her affiliations; as it was she knew Angela- Mercy, the doctor and the gorilla were more than suspicious of her motives. Hell, just the thought of returning to that small room with nothing to do was enough to make her let the goons get them. Almost. Perhaps the only thing saving them was the fact she needed to get further in. What good was an infiltration when ‘infiltrating’ wasn’t even achievable?  
  
Of course, perhaps the strongest reason was the most selfish, the one she mulled over in the back of her mind the same way she did that first day Tracer visited her. She would look down her barrel and know that it was her misplaced trust that brought Overwatch to it’s knees - and she wanted to be the one to do it. She wanted to see those eyes widen, that jaw drop and her body shake. She wanted to see the emotion in her eyes.

She fired the last shot, and the final man fell.

The silence that fell over a won battlefield was always a curious creature - it was a silence, yes, and a merciful one at that, but it seemed to be seeped in the knowledge that it was forged in blood, a cruel reality that made the peace something sacred in the most unholy sense. Across the room she watched as the soldiers started to crack and humanity seeped through the holes - Winston falling back onto his hunches, Hana slumping to the ground. The dread of being a hostage like that would not be one so easily forgotten and the others seemed to recognise that; the ninja had already made his way over to support the woman, and Angela once making sure that Winston was okay was already sailing up on Valkyrie wings. Of course she was still in her armor, she never took it off. She wouldn't take it off until she had to and _why did she know this._ Their conversations had never strayed into such personal topics.

Her fingers buzzed, her heart pounded and her skin _burned._

But all was forgotten as she saw Lena look up to her with wide eyes that only grew brighter.

“Widow!” She said, jumping up _blink-blink_ and she was there in front of her- no, _on_ her. She was gangly, like a puppy that hadn’t quite grown into its’ paws but her arms wound around her and it kicked her heart into double time. She smelt like static and earl grey tea and possibility, wound herself around Widowmaker like they’d done this a thousand times before. But they hadn’t. They hadn’t and the proximity seemed to short her out. She was so warm, hair so soft against her exposed skin and she wanted to relax but she _couldn’t_ .  
  
“I knew you’d come through.” Lena said, pulling away before starting to frown slightly. “You alright love? You look a bit out of sorts.” And she tried to respond but her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she could feel her body shaking or because Lena was so close, so close that she could touch her. “Was it the hug? Thought it might’ve been alright but-”  
  
“That was fine.” She managed to say.  
  
“Oh, good” She said, brightly. “Looks like you need to lie down though.”  
  
“That sounds- that sounds acceptable.” She finished lamely. “I appear to be a bit out of sorts.”  
  
“What, do you need Ang’ to have a look at you?”  
  
“No! No.” She said, flustered ( _why the fuck was she flustered)_ “I did not expect to be interrupted tonight, that is all.”  
  
“Yeah this… This was not quiet.” Lena replied, looking down as she scuffed her shoes along the metal floor of the catwalk. “I’ll show you back to your room.” 

It was a short trip back, in all actuality - Lena one step ahead to guide her through the too dark corridors. Corridors she knew she shouldn't know and yet a part of her still whispered; spoke of a time when the paint had not been so faded and the corridors not so quiet. _Amélie_ her mind presented and she pushed the thought down. No. Not now. She couldn't handle it now; not when her heart was too fast in her chest and where Lena held her hand burned so bright it felt like she might get blisters.

And yet… She could not justify why she did not let go.  
  
-x-

Her rifle had been confiscated, her doors locked (manually, since the mains power had yet to come back on) and for all intents and purposes it felt like any other night. True, this night ended with Lena closing the door with a promise to try vouching for her once again, but she knew better to try and sleep after she had seen the screen glitch out the corner of her eye - and so she waited. Showered in the other room, cleaned herself up - but she waited all the same.

Just like she expected, the screen fizzled into life when she sat back down on the bed, an all too familiar ASCII symbol announcing the woman's arrival. Privately, Widowmaker thought that it was rather over dramatic - then again that would probably be the pot calling the kettle black, considering the tattoo spider webbed over her arm.

“So are you going to explain this mess to me?” She said bluntly.

“Please _amiga_ , the day I am responsible for that sort of shit show will be my last.” Crackled the voice through the intercom. “And you know as well as I do - even if I did cause all this would I _really_ own up to it?”

“It makes me wonder why you even agreed to work with Talon.”

“Well, I’m just a simple girl, and I’m not going turn down a friend, no? Friends help friends out - especially when friends have their weapons confiscated when they first arrive and you can unlock the room they’re in so said friend can be armed for their battle. So helpful. Something a certain friend should be thankful for.” Sombra replied with a rather pointed tone. Widowmaker just rolled her eyes as Sombra started giggling, before the woman launched into the rest of her spiel “Your mission remains the same. Infiltrate, then destroy Overwatch from the inside-”

“-And they didn't think I could do it alone?”

“Relax, it has nothing to do with you.” Sombra said. “You may be a good agent, but you’re still only a single mission. The mission that intersected with yours was a scoping mission to see if your mission was even still needed - a suicide  so don’t get all big headed thinking they’re getting in your way. In fact, I think you should probably thank them - you’ve been in that cell a while, haven’t you?”  
  
“This is a pretty comfortable _cell_ if you wish to call it that.”  
  
“And you’ve been out of there how many times?” She countered, sounding almost bored. “Either way, you’ve shown them you can be trusted. I assume you’ve gotten a dosage too?”  
  
“Thankfully.” Widowmaker said, pulling out a bullet from her bra. “About time too - the withdrawal symptoms have already started.”  
  
“According to the professionals, they’re only going to get worse if you don’t stick it in you soon.”  
  
“Did I say I was going to wait?” Widowmaker, her tone sharpening. She could hear the woman giggling from the other side of the communicator.  
  
“Touchy.” There was a slight lull in conversation; faintly, Widowmaker could hear the clicking of her keyboard. “Look, I’ll be keeping an eye on things through here - Talon’s been waiting to hear from you, should I say something more...palatable than you’ve done fuck all?”  
  
“Tell them I am making progress.” Widowmaker said, playing with the bullet in her hand. As she talked she twisted at the head of the bullet until it came off with a _pop_ \- carefully extracting the stout needle from its casing. A dark purple liquid swirled inside the fragile glass, oh so familiar to her. “While it has taken a while to establish myself, potentially to the detriment of my overall fitness, it is what I expected from such a mission. This evening however has allowed me to prove my loyalty to those still doubtful - I aim to be established within the next few weeks.” The words were true but even so they sat far on her tongue, too big for her mouth - this was nothing new, so why did all of this feel so _dirty?_

“Aaand _recorded.”_ Sombra replied with a grin that was audible. “Man, you made that sound a lot better than what it is.”

“I know exactly what I'm doing-”

“You have stalled on your shot for 22 minutes now.” Sombra said simply. “I suggest not trying anything.”

With a scoff and a glare into the camera she wasted no more time, plunging the needle into her arm and pressing down. That roughness proved to be her downfall though, and she gasped as she wrenched away the needle. She could feel it in her veins being pumped around by a too fast heart, and it _burned._ It burned more than her skin because she could feel it in her veins - she wanted to claw herself open and dig it out from her blood, spread open butterfly on an operating table like she spent so much time. She could feel fog settling over her thought, shifting disappearing leaving herb so empty, empty she didn't want to be _empty-_

She opened her eyes.

She took stock of herself - on the floor, on her knees, arms wrapped around herself. She blinked slowly, unwrapped her arms. The muscles ached - so tense for so long and now not. Her pants had made sure that her legs were protected but she could feel bruises forming down the front of them. Reintroduction had caused unintentional physical effects it seemed. She looked at her arm, deep nail bites in the skin oozing wetly. It looked like the wounds a captive would give it’s captor - desperate, futile, a fight in the actions that were ultimately useless.

 _Clearly,_ Widowmaker thought to herself, standing, _an extended amount of time without a dosage has not only a notably negative effect on my physical and mental abilities, but had also exposed my body to… Some sort of pain?_ She tried to remember why she had sunk her nails into her arm in the first place, what mental reaction had caused that. Her mind was eerily quiet in return. No matter. She stood, ignoring the niggle in the back of her mind.

“Injection complete. Agent will endeavor to not let symptoms progress this far again without due reason and any negative effects will be reported if and when they arise.”

“Noted.” Came Sombra’s reply. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just listen out. I'm always keen for new _friends_.”

The intercom went silent, Widowmaker went to bed, and she slept a dreamless sleep.  
  
-x-

“Hiya! Want some company, Widow?”  
  
“I suppose you can come in for a while.”  
  
When usually Lena would have to scan her fingerprints and input in the passcode, today she just needed to press a button as the doors slid open, and that alone made a part of her curl in satisfaction. Winston in particular was still hesitant on the newly lax rules around Widowmaker, but it hadn’t taken much to convince him that at the very least the woman needed a bit more room to breathe. Indeed, she had gotten just that; as Lena entered the room she couldn’t help a small delighted smile as she saw the more spacious area the other woman had been given. Gone were the medical cabinets and eye charts, swapped out for a deck complete with lamp and a small wardrobe. While smaller, it was similar in design to her own room - including near unlimited access to the outside world.  
  
“You’re looking tip top, love!” She said, pulling out the desk chair and plopping herself down into it. Across from her Widowmaker thumbed at the cover of a book, _Holding on to the Air_ etched in cursive along the spine. A few other books sat on the woman’s nightstand - Lena could pick out the titles _Tippy-toe Murder_ and _Life in Motion_ as well from her distance.  
  
“It is good to see you too, _chérie._ ” Widowmaker replied. The reply was cool, distant - it jarred with the woman Lena had been getting to know and it made her thoughts skid to a stop. She did not sound right. She didn’t sound like her Widow - she sounded like the _Widowmaker_ and there  
  
“Widow? You alright?” She said the words cautiously, cradling each word like they were going to break. For a moment she was glad that the woman in front of her did not have her weapon, that even Angela had insisted on keeping it locked up. She immediately scolded herself for the thought though - if _she_ couldn’t get past Widow’s past, who could? How could she expect everybody else to? “You know you can talk to me right? You’re being awfully quiet - Ang’ said that she had let you know of when you can run around.”  
  
“She did, I apologize.” Widowmaker said. Lena noticed that the page the woman was thumbing was only the second page in - unusual considering the rate that the woman usually devoured books. Not only was she distracted now, but she’d been this distracted for at least the past day. “She suggested that I come out for dinner but…”

“But?” Lena pressed, concerned.

“I’m still not feeling quite right, and in addition I'm not exactly sure you realize how much of an… oddity I am.” Widowmaker said. Her words were cool, calm, in direct contrast to the worry only just able to be glimpsed behind her mask of an expression. “I have a certain reputation that makes socialization something that is unfamiliar to me.”  
  
“You’re shy?”  
  
“...That is not the right word.” But she couldn’t meet Lena’s eyes as she said the words.  
  
“It is!” Lena said, bouncing up onto her feet. “I knew there was a reason you didn’t come out! Look, Lucio arrived this morning-”  
  
“The revolutionary?”  
  
“The DJ!” Lena said, smiling. “Well, yeah, the revolutionary too but that’s not what I was getting at. Look, he and Hana are sitting out in the lounge and Lucio’s got his speakers out - he invited me to come hang when I was going past but I was coming to see you. But if you want to get out and have a wander…”  
  
“I’m not entirely sure I’d be a good fit.”  
  
“And why would that be? They’re younger than you? I mean, that’s the same for me love and they seemed plenty happy for me to be there.”  
  
“I do not share in your childlike exuberance.”  
  
“And yet when we play Mario Kart you don’t seem to be complaining.” When Widowmaker didn’t respond she felt her expression soften. “Look, if you don’t want to go out, it’s all good love. We can take it slow, maybe go out and start having tea and coffee together in the kitchen in the mornings when everybody's still half asleep, and tonight we can just hang here like we usually do.”  
  
“Why do you care so much?” Widowmaker asked suddenly, eyes snapping up to her. Confusion was evident and the intensity of the emotion caught her off guard.  
  
“Because I care about you, love.” Lena said without thinking and the stunned expression that followed in the words’ wake had her scrambling for reasoning - reasoning that didn’t take into account the way her eyes were starting to hang on the curve of her lip and the angle of her jaw if she let her gaze wander too long. “It take courage to actually step up and change stuff, you know? And I want to help you with that and be _you._ ” She reached out, grabbing Widowmaker’s hand and pulling her to her feet. She knew that the woman could easily pull away if she wanted to but she came easily. “Come on, let’s not leave them waiting!”  
  
And if she indulged in the feeling of slim fingers against her wrist, skin so wonderfully cool against hers, well that was neither here nor there.  
  
-x-

When Widowmaker had been told about this mission, she knew that it would have complications - but this was one of the ones she should have seen coming.  
  
“And you haven’t been feeling any discomfort? Anything out of the ordinary?” Angela said, circling back around to sit down in front of the woman. Her clipboard sat gingerly on her crossed knee - Widowmaker could see the chicken scratch she called writing scrawled across the paper clipped on. The vials of blood she had taken had already been squirreled away for more testing after she left, probably

 _Nothing you can help with_ was what she was wanted to say, but instead she bit her tongue and opted for a different answer.  
  
“The skin on my upper back is still tight.” Widowmaker said, shrugging her shoulders. She could still feel the new skin pull taunt, lack of exercise meaning it had yet to be broken in. “You say that as if I should have noticed something.”  
  
“Your vitals have been unsettled somewhat, actually.” Angela replied. “Your heart rate has slowed and your core temperature has dropped. I’ve put it down to shock, but it’s concerning considering there had been slight improvements being made over the past few months. You haven't regressed entirely, but your levels are almost back to what they were in your first reports.”  
  
_They should have regressed entirely, that means the dosage wasn’t strong enough and now who knows what the effects will be?_ was what she wanted to say, but instead she let her concern forge her expression and her words lie smooth overtop. “I have felt colder, but things have been unusual the past couple of days.”  
  
“It was certainly not the way I envisioned you integrating back into Overwatch, but I will take it.” The doctor smiled as she tapped the corner of her mouth with her pen. “I wasn’t sure that recovery would come this quickly for you, but that is a medical opinion that I am happy to have proven wrong. Nevertheless, I am still interested in moving forward with trialing some possible chemical antibodies.”  
  
That was cause for alarm. She had always been told by the Talon doctors that the chemical balance in her veins was more fragile than anything. “Is that necessary?”  
  
“To make a full recovery? Absolutely.” Angela said, flicking back through her notes. “I am still not sure the full effects of having both such a low body temperature and heart rate - your body does have an abnormally high red blood cell count, but I am still worried the overall decreased blood circulation rate will affect you more negatively than I can currently see. Your nervous system, lungs and eyes are all particularly sensitive to blood oxygenation levels, and I fear your pain responses have already been severely affected, as well as your memory recall. _However,”_ she stressed, waiting for Widowmaker to settle back down, her mouth to close. “I won’t be moving forward with that until I am certain that you have settled into a new routine. The last thing I want to do is unsettle you while you are still adjusting.”

“Is it really necessary though?” Widowmaker asked cautiously.

“This is not the time to go into such details.” Angela replied, waving away the thought. “I want to make sure you are recovering adequately before we introduce any anomalies into the equation. Speaking of which, are you enjoying the books?”

“They're certainly interesting. I enjoy reading them.”

“Good.” Angela said, before her expression softened. “I thought you might enjoy them - several of those books used to belong to you. You used to be so adamant that you should submerge yourself in ballet culture even if you weren’t on the stage.” The words made Widowmaker’s mouth pull into a line. Sure, it explained why she had enjoyed the books so much, but…  
  
“I’m not your Amelie.” It seemed important, somehow, to make the specification - the name felt familiar, like a winter coat pulled out from the back of the closet. It was hers, but there were implications, expectations on it that made her uncomfortable in a way she hadn’t felt before.  
  
“I understand.” Angela said.

 _But do you?_

-x- 

“Hey, Lena?”

“Yeah?”  
  
“What do you remember about the old Amélie?” That certainly caught the other woman’s attention, who looked up from her DS.  
  
“That’s an odd question coming from you, love. Thought you weren’t all that interested about that stuff.”  
  
“My curiosity has been provoked.” Widowmaker replied, “It is not unreasonable to be curious about a woman when she's all people can think of when they look at me.”

“I suppose that's fair.” Lena said, shutting the DS with a click before spinning to face Widowmaker completely. “Lemme see, Amélie, Amélie… Late wife of Gerard, early member of Overwatch - though I'm not sure if she was ever considered a _proper_ proper member. Think the media ended up reporting she was only considered an ‘associate’ after everything happened. Primo ballerina too, bunch of awards and star roles, I know Ang’ went to a bunch of her shows-”

“I'm not interested in that.”

“Huh?” Ignoring the way her gut clenched at the way Lena looked at her - because surely she didn't feel _guilty over it, right?_ \- she relaxed and let a smile play over her face.

“If I wanted to know such trivial information, I could just do my own research, _non_?” She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “What did _you_ know about her?” At the question Lena just laughed and looked away, clapping her hands together nervously. Widowmaker could see the tips of her ears growing pink in the way they always did when she was embarrassed; the fact she not only knew that but found the quality _endearing_ probably should have concerned her more than it did.

“I mean, I didn’t really run in the same circles so I'm not exactly the best person to ask about that.”

“Your expression says though you still have certain thoughts, _chérie_.”

“Aw, sod off.” Lena replied, poking Widowmaker in the shoulder and not sounding entirely serious about the matter. “I only got to meet her a few times - I'd only just joined Overwatch and was still busy with Slipstream training, yeah? But _gosh,_ she wasn't a face you forgot easy. High class bird, she was - came right up to me and congratulated me on being a pioneer. Made a girl feel right proud of herself.” She paused for a moment before looking down, mulling over her bottom lip in a way that made her seem far younger than she was.

“Y’know, you two speak the same but it's different. She was all poise and grace but we all knew she was only around because of Gérard and there was only so many ways she could say the same thing. Like, we loved her, it was hard not to. She had this… Air that’d make anybody go ass-over-tits for her. But she never _got_ it, yknow? You're different to what she was like. You know what it’s like to fight.”

 _I’m not like you and I will never understand what it’s like_ Widowmaker knew should have been reaction - but it wasn’t. She was nothing more than silent, contemplative, letting the room settle back into a comfortable silence beside the tapping of Lena’s DS as she opened it once more.  
  
“Lena, how would you react if I asked you to call me Amélie?”  
  
“I mean, I’d be right confused no lie, especially after the whole _I’m not Amélie_ thing you’ve had going on.” She giggled as Widowmaker raised an eyebrow at her crappy French accent. “But I’d happily do it. Whatever works for you, right?”  
  
“No questions?”  
  
“Well I mean of course I have questions, I always have questions. But you’ll get around to it at some point.”  
  
“...Could you then?”  
  
“Of course, love.” At the words she felt herself relax in a way she honestly hadn’t been expecting. After all this didn’t mean anything, right? This was just another step in the plan, didn’t have anything to do with the way she swear she could feel her heart unclench at the reassurance, the fact that Lena was okay with it. 

“ _Merci._ ”

“Anytime, Amélie.”  
  
-x-  
  
.

_hack initialized…_  
  
_day(s) until next injection… 28_ _  
_

-x- _  
__  
_ Tracer should have known that if Mario Kart was going to be competitive, table tennis was going to be even worse. After all, putting a time traveller against a woman with one of the best hand eye coordinations around? It was something she hadn’t even considered until she stood at the table, and didn’t truly understand until she stood panting and congratulating the easy victor in front of her.  
  
Perhaps once she would have been more grumpy about that - but she looked at the pleased smile, void of malice, that had come to Amélie’s face and suddenly she didn’t mind all that much at all.

-x-

  
_  
_ _day(s) until next injection… 12_

-x-  
  
Fingers searched across Amélie’s back, testing the skin and seeing if it had broken in - Angela was a doctor, and a professional at that. It was important for her to check her physical health, even if the injury itself was now months old and rarely troubled her. But Amélie couldn’t think of injuries right now; the touch rang a bell, whispered to her of that delicate touch roaming further, pressing, teasing-  
  
\- _The echo of a child-like laugh in the back of her mind, so much younger that it was now, whispered breath against her ear not too long after. “You’re gorgeous.” She says as hands skate lower over her body in pattern she’s traced so many times. Who knew a doctor could still take such delight in the human body?-_ _  
_  
Only she didn’t know it, shouldn’t remember it because _it doesn’t exist_ \- and she jolted back from Angela with her heart in her throat and tingling in her fingertips she wasn’t sure was from the nanobots or from herself.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” She says, and the lie drips from her tongue far too easy. 

-x-

  
_  
_ _day(s) until next injection… 1_

-x-

Amélie could feel the warmth at her fingertips, the tip of her nose, the burn of blood running too hot in her system. In the dark of the night she turned over the needle in her hand, watched the liquid swirl inside. It would be so easy just to do it, inject it into her arm and go back to normal. She had already done it before here, it wasn’t hard. She had brought the needle to her arm two or three times, tried to will herself to just get it over and done with. It wouldn’t hurt like that first time - just a pinch and press and she would be once again back to normal, cool and collected and focused in a way she had been lacking too much over the past few months.

She slid the needle back inside the bullet, clicking the casing closed. Surely she could wait a few days, right? After all, there were strategic advantages to being more receptive emotionally to the advances of Overwatch agents - it would allow her to create more meaningful personal relationships, connect on a more personal level with targets in a way that was considerably harder in her usual condition. Especially Lena - her relationship with _More to manipulate once the mission concludes,_ she reasoned to herself as she stashed away the bullet shell. She ignored the way the thought stuck to the room of her mouth, writhed in her gut like a snake.  
  
_And a spider is no match for a snake._ _  
_ _  
_ She went to bed, and dreamed in a troubled sleep. 

-x-

  
_  
__day(s) until next injection…_ _-1_ _  
_ **_Warning! You are overdue!_ **

**_  
_ ** -x-  
  
“Lena, do you ever sit still?”  
  
The question made the woman perk up, tilting her head in an almost owl like fashion. Outside the room it was quiet; the once busy halls outside now fell quiet as the various agents and staff of Overwatch retired for the night. It made their voices seem all the louder in the small room.  
  
“What do you mean, love?”  
  
“Look at you.” Amélie said, gesturing over her copy of _Into the Wings_ towards Lena’s hand, where she was tapping a pen against her leg along to an unheard beat. “If it is not a pen it is your hands on a desk, if not that your foot tapping on the ground. It is as if you are _unable_ to be still.”  
  
“Well, you know me, flighty Tracer. Gotta go fast and keep ahead yeah?” Lena laughed, but she couldn’t keep the shake out of her voice. _Perhaps she won’t notice_ she tried to reason - but somehow she seemed to forget the woman in front of her was a sniper, eyes trained to notice the smallest detail and it was foolish to think the shiver in her fingers would go unnoticed.  
  
“You aren’t in combat anymore, are you?” Amélie said. “There is no reason to try and stay ahead when there is nothing you are trying to beat.” Lena could tell the words were not said out of any sort of malice but all the same it made her grip the fabric of her pants just a bit tighter. She took a deep breath - in, out, just like Angela had told her.

“Well, no, but old habits die hard, right?”

She did not expect Amélie to put down her things and stand up, nor walk over to her. It gave her a moment to observe the fluid grace that seemed to run through her like water, the way that she seemed to move with a purpose that seeped into her very bones. She took a seat beside her on the bed; the mattress dipped and Lena had to plant her feet to make sure that she didn’t fall into Amélie (what she wanted to do be damned). Slim fingers, calloused from years on the front lines, moved down her forearms down to her hand, plucking the pen from between her two fingers. They curled around her hands and they stilled.  
  
“Stop moving.”  
  
Lena couldn’t stop her leg from jiggling, didn’t even realise she was doing it until one hand came down to smooth over her thigh. She would have called the move sensual at another time, even called it _a move_ with capital letters and a waggle of eyebrows; but she couldn’t. She literally couldn’t as she felt her heart starting to flutter in her chest, as she started to shake in a way that a hand couldn’t stop.  
  
“I can’t.” Lena said, squeezing her eyes shut.  
  
“You’re doing it now-” Amélie said, squeezing her hands. _You’re here, you’re here,_ Lena repeated the words to herself but they carried no weight, they were floating she was floating she could feel herself destabilizing and the world dropping away beneath her-  
  
“I am here, _ma chérie_ . Can you hear me?”  
  
It was a voice, a single voice and in the turmoil of her mind ( _and her body as she tumbled through space, unattached from the ground, her friends, her family, time itself- was everybody okay was she okay make it_ **_stop-_ ** ) she clung it it like a lifeline in stormy waters.  
  
“Don’t let me go.” She said quietly, her voice too small and her breathing shallow. “I just- I can’t-”  
  
“I am right here.”  
  
“I’m going to disappear.”  
  
“No you’re not.” Amélie said. “I am here, and you are still wearing the chronal accelerator.” At that, her blurry eyes flung open - when had she started crying? - hands coming up to claw at the metal strapped around her chest. Her grip tightened on the metal, nails scratching into the felted underside. An anchor, her anchor, she wasn’t going to leave again _please don’t let me leave again. “_ You are here.”  
  
Lena wasn’t sure when the panic subsided, when her fingers stopped cramping and her frame stopped shaking, when the rushing stopped in her ears and she started to just be. She was fine. The world was still quiet around them, save for Amélie above her humming a quiet song. Fingers carded softly through her hair, and slowly Lena realised that somewhere in the middle of all this Amélie had pulled her body against her side, letting her head on her shoulder. Her touch was still so cool but it was grounding in a way that she didn’t expect, pinpoints of focus she could lean into.  
  
_“Dors, ma chérie.”_ Amélie said, and while Lena couldn’t understand French she could understand the message that the hands that ran down her arm so slowly were trying to convey, the way her eyelids drooped as the energy finally was leached from her body. Even if she wanted to move she knew she couldn’t now.  
  
“Thanks, love.” She murmured, and exhaustion took her before she could hear the reply.  
  
(But if the way she woke up was any indication - tucked into a bed she hadn’t even unmade last night, with a note in looped cursive saying Amélie would be waiting for her in the kitchen for their morning tea and coffee like usual - Amélie hadn’t minded in the slightest.)

-x-

  
_  
__day(s) until next injection…_ _-3_ _  
_ **_Waring! You are overdue!  
  
_ **

-x-  
  
“Saw you’ve been hanging out with ol’ gloom and doom lately.”  
  
“His name is Hanzo.” Amélie replied, not even looking up from her copy of _Winter Season._ “Although I would recommend that you call him Shimada until you learn some manners.”  
  
“Aw, I was just taking the piss. No need to get all antsy about it.” Lena said with a smile on her face. “Just not often I see you actually going out of your way to _talk_ with people, yeah?” Amelie just rolled her eyes.  
  
“Hanzo is a respectful individual once you get him alone, and we have much in common. His skills with a bow rival that of mine with a rifle… Though I would put that down to lack of practice.” She smiled slyly, chuckling as she watched Lena cackle at her joke. She knew far too well how competitive Amélie could be. “Besides, he _appreciates_ silence.”  
  
“Are you taking a crack at me?!”  
  
“Wouldn’t think of it.” Amélie replied, giggling as she saw Lena start to fume, the woman jumping to her feet and pacing over to her. The light of the chronal accelerator made the pages in her hands glow as Lena stepped closer.  
  
“You know I can shut it if I want to! In fact we do it all the time - you sit on your bed, I sit over here and we’re happy as clams until I skive off to bed! Barely even talk when we’re sitting around like that-”  
  
“It is so easy to catch you out.” Amélie said, a bemused smile on her face and she watched Lena’s train of thought just screech to a halt, her face slowly going from passionate anger to half wilted defeat. She poked Amélie in the centre of her chest, little bark to her bite.  
  
“Now- Now that just ain’t fair.” She whined.  
  
“It happens.” Amélie replied. She had meant to say more but she had lapsed into a quiet silence instead, suddenly achingly aware of the contact between her and Lena only separated by a thin piece of cotton. When she looked up too, her thoughts once again slowed, because Lena had quietened too. It was evening, near bedtime and it showed; gone was the young woman’s makeup for the day, gone was the perfect spikes to her hair. She was dressed down, imperfect, but Amélie wanted nothing more than to forget the night sky and count the constellations on Lena’s cheeks, shun the moon for the amber of Lena’s eyes. _Beautiful,_ her subconscious offered up. She couldn’t help but agree.  
  
“I- Oh, sorry.” Lena said suddenly, nearly tripping over her feet in her effort to get away from Amélie, back to the safely of her chair and clearly defined boundaries marked by empty space between them. But there was a blush high on her cheeks and dusting her ears and her fingers danced over her DS far too skittishly to be relaxed. Amélie couldn’t help but wonder - what had Lena been thinking of, and why did the possibilities make her heart pound faster in her chest? 

-x-

  
_  
__day(s) until next injection…_ _-6_ _  
_ **_Waring! You are overdue!_ **

-x-  
  
Lena couldn’t find Amélie anywhere. 

Her coffee had cooled to stale on the bench as Lena had waited for her in the morning, her concern amplified by the lack of warning. Amélie wasn’t the sort to just… _Disappear_ without any sort of notice _._ Still, Lena had pushed the thought to the side; with the influx of Overwatch agents both new and old pouring into Gibraltar there had been an uptick in group training sessions and the last thing she needed while training with Zarya today was to be distracted. After all, even if the pulses from training bots were nonlethal they still hurt like a _bitch_.

But she only got more concerned as she went through her day; Lucio asking where Amélie was because he had found a French jazz artist to show her,  Mercy asking for Lena to send the woman her way because she hadn’t shown up to her checkup yesterday, Hana trying to chase down the woman for their rematch in the latest _Tekken_ game, the controllers sitting forlorn and forgotten on the couch. Even Hanzo had sidled up to her at dinner, asking in a gruff voice whether she had seen her - apparently Amélie had missed their regular meeting, which sounded like it amounted to sitting on a roof, downing sake and copious amounts of shit talking. It was a phenomenon that Lena would have found hilarious if it didn’t imply that literally nobody had seen Amélie in a good twenty four hours.  
  
It always came back to meeting in their rooms at night, Lena thought to herself as she made her way to the woman’s room. Anybody else would look on their meetings and think that it was some sort of saucy _rendez-vous_ \- which she was pretty sure half of Overwatch thought already. She’d been teased about it by Hana too many times to count at this point. Whether she wanted to or not was besides the point; what was the point was the silence that greeted her when she knocked on the door.  
  
“Hey love, it’s me. Are you there?” She said, tapping on the door. Once again there was no reply. “Is it okay if I come in?” Once again there was no reply - she was about to leave too when she heard a muffled whimper from behind the door, cut off far too suddenly. It was like Amélie didn’t _want_ to be heard. “Amélie, are you okay?” She asked more persistently, gnawing at her bottom lip. She didn’t want to invade Amélie’s privacy, but she needed to make sure she was okay-  
  
A sob sounded from the other side of the door, and Lena keyed in the override code to the room.  
  
The doors flung open easily, sliding shut behind Lena as she stepped into the bedroom. It wasn’t hard to spot Amélie, curled into a ball on her bed and flinching away from the fleeting fluorescent light from the hallway. The top blanket from her bed had been kicked to the floor, her undersheet twisted around her body. Lena could see the sheen of sweat from where she stood, the sharp intakes of breath from between clenched teeth.  
  
“Amélie, can you speak to me?” Lena said, and it felt like she was choking on her own breath. What was _wrong?_ “Should I go and get Ang-”  
  
“ _No.”_ Amélie said, voice cracking like just forcing out the words was an effort. It was followed by another whimper that was quickly snuffed out, probably muffled again the meat of the hand Lena saw her pull up to her face.  
  
“Amélie, you look like you’re going to die.” Lena said. “You need medical attention-”  
  
“ _I can’t.”_  
  
“What do you mean you can’t?” Lena said, concern making her stomach knot. “She’s probably still awake, it’s not going to be any trouble.”  
  
“ _Non._ ” She replied quickly, pain digging into her words and making them sharp.“I cannot, I, she cannot help she won’t want to-”  
  
“She’s a doctor, she will always want to help. She’s wanted to help since the beginning.”  
  
“Not after what I’ve done, _chérie._ ”  
  
“ _Stop acting like such a wanker and tell me what’s wrong!_ ” Lena snapped. Instead of saying anything though the woman just batted something into Lena’s lap. A bullet shell?  
  
“Look.”  
  
“I don’t understand, love.” She said, picking it up between forefinger and thumb, turning it over- and it rattled? The top of the bullet came away in her hand, and she stared in horror as a needle fell onto her palm. “You’re not saying…”  
  
“That keeps me cold.” Amélie said, “Keeps me focused, makes me _Widowmaker_. Once a month, they said, it’d be fine if you take it once a month. If I did that I would be able to bring you all down.”  
  
“You’re- you’re trying to kill us?” Lena said, feeling tears well in her eyes as she whispered the words.  
  
“I thought it would be a piece of cake.” Amélie said, cutting herself off to gasp, to curl into herself as a shudder ran through her system. “Just had to get in, make everybody think I was one of you - but after I shot the Talon intruders you all treated me like I was a _person_. You enjoyed being around me even if I was not _her_ and I did not think I would I enjoy that - I cannot kill you now, and _that_ will only return me to my former state and stop me feeling and remembering. I cannot stand to be like that again, even if the withdrawal will kill me. I- I want to feel alive again. You make me feel alive again.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“I love you, Lena-” The words were cut out with a choked off sob, Lena jumping to her feet as she backed out.  
  
“I’m getting Ang’ and you can’t stop me. Be right back, love.” There were no protests though as she left the room (ignoring the flash of purple she swear she saw on the touchpad just within the door), rounded the corner as she brought the communicator to her ear. Somehow she managed to force out words between thoughts, between a mind on the knife’s edge between elation and breakdown - to be fair, they felt like the same thing at this point.  
  
“Lena, what do you need this time of night to be using the emergency channel?”  
  
“I’m coming now, it’s Amélie. I’ll explain when I get to you but I- you’ve got to see her. _Please._ ”  
  
“On my way.”  
  
-x-

There was a certain amount of deja vu Amélie felt as she struggled to consciousness in a groggy climb in a way that threw her off just as much now as it had the first time around. Pain was not a factor this time around though, save for the pinch of a needle in her arm - a drip. She knew that. She’d had enough of those when she had been back at Talon, liquid seeping into her veins-  
  
- _Wrists burning as she struggled against her restraints, muscles straining against her binds as she refused to accept her fate. Her throat was raw and the gag bitter in her mouth even as she still spat insults through the rubber_ you can’t do this, they’ll come for me, I hate you **I hate you** _. The place was so white, too white; Talon was black and broken and evil but this place was an evil that she couldn’t put into words in the same way. But it was there, she could sense it, she could see it in the cold eyes of the surgeons, feel it in the cold metal of the incision instruments_. _The purple dug into her veins as it leaked into her body and made her scream a scream that nobody could hear even as she strained and screamed_ ** _help_** _-_ _  
__  
_ She shot up, clutching at her chest as her heart pounded like it was trying to break her ribs from the inside, ghosts of the past momentarily clinging to her eyes and making her blind. But nothing met her; no straps on her arms or metal on her skin; just the pull of a saline drip on the inside of her arm and the quiet hum of the medical wing machines around her.  
  
“You’re finally awake. I was worried.”  
  
Amélie looked up from where she sat panting to see Angela walk into the room, lab coat buttoned up and that familiar clipboard clutched to her chest. On first glance it was the same shtick she saw every time she came in for a checkup, but as Amélie looked closer it was like watching the edges of the paper curl up. Locks of hair fell out of her messy ponytail to frame her face, the bags under her eyes and her eyes tired. She looked exhausted, like her worry had chewed through her frame and making her a dead man walking.  
  
“How long have I been out?”  
  
“A day, with part of that being medically induced.” She said, taking out her clipboard. “I’ve never seen such violent withdrawal symptoms before; I feared that if I didn’t lengthen your time under that you may have dealt worse damage to yourself than the withdrawal itself.”  
  
“That seems impossible.”  
  
“You would be surprised.” The woman said, sitting down on a stool and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “By your body’s regular standards your temperature right now is sitting well above a fever. Quite frankly, with the sort of symptoms that you have been exhibiting I am eager to start work on finding an antidote for you as soon as possible. Having a vial of it myself now will make that process much easier-”

“You want to experiment on me.” Amélie said bluntly.  
  
“I never said that.”  
  
“You implied it.”  
  
“I want to cure you.” Angela said, voice hard. “And it is not unusual for a patient to trial different medications until a suitable one is found.”  
  
“But I’m not a regular patient.” Amélie replied. “and I’m not about to let myself become a medical guinea pig.” _At least, not to somebody else_ she thought. She had already got enough of that from being on Talon’s operating table - and she wasn’t ready to be forced onto another.  
  
“I just want to reverse what has been done to you. You’re acting as if I want to tie you up and treat you like some sort of _dog_ .” Angela said, anger a bite to the back of her words. But when Widowmaker went to respond, she couldn’t force a response past her lips-  
  
\- _She wasn’t sure she had a voice anymore; not that it mattered. She was trapped, strapped down, helpless against the concoction sweeping through her blood. They told her that she belonged to them, and she had spat at them every heinous word she knew as they opened up her body with a medical precision she didn’t want to see but was forced to anyway. They told her she was theirs and now unable to struggle against the numbness in her limbs and the ice in her veins chilling her to the bone she couldn’t help but believe them. But still she cried out, for Gerad, for Overwatch, cried as he body and mind broke under fingers that were long gone-_ _  
_ _  
_ “Oh, Amelie.” Angela whispered, standing up to walk over to Amélie with her voice breaking.  
  
“ _Don’t call me that.”_ Amélie snapped. Instantly Angela’s expression changed, like flicking a switch.  
  
“And why not? Lena does.” She said the words in the same way a jealous child would, spat out like she didn’t like the taste.  
  
“Lena’s different.”  
  
“How is she different?” Angela insisted, eyes wild. “What makes her so special?”  
  
“She isn’t in love with a woman who doesn’t exist anymore!” Amélie said. Angela just looked at her, stunned. Amélie pushed on. “Did you think I would not notice those looks you give me, like you are some sort of lovestruck puppy?”  
  
“Don’t call me a _puppy_ .” Angela growled. “I am merely trying to make you better and undo what Talon has done to you.”  
  
“I am not a toy to be fixed.” Amélie said, and her fists shook against the sheets. “And even if you could undo all of this, do you really think everything would go back to normal and you’d get your _sweet little Amélie_ back?”  
  
“I am under no such illusion.” Angela said through gritted teeth, despite the fact her eyes shone.  
  
“Then why the fuss? Why does it matter to you so much?”  
  
“I’m a doctor, damnit! How is it _not_ supposed to matter to me when you’re hurt when I can help you?” Angela said. The clipboard fell to the ground with a clatter, forgotten. “I’m supposed to heal people. I’m supposed to fix them - why would I not do that for you, after all you’ve done for me?”  
  
“Stop talking to me like I’m her!” Amélie snapped, glowering. “The Amélie you loved died on the Talon operating table and no amount of Caduceus healing is going to bring her back. I am Amélie but I also Widowmaker now. You can’t change that.” With that, Angela was mercifully silent; when Amélie looked up she could see why. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, making her gulp in a breath of air and seeing the doctor who was always so composed break like this made her heart _clench._ _  
_ _  
_ “Angela, please, listen.” She said, reaching out the short distance to slip her fingers under the doctor’s chin, tilt up her gaze until they saw eye to eye. “I still do not remember much, but I can say this much; I enjoyed our relationship. I enjoyed what we had. But I said I was only interested in the physical, that my heart already belonged to another, Gérard and that when he chose me I would take it. I married him, Angela, I took it - why did you hold onto this thought of me for so long?” Angela was silent in reply but Amélie knew that look on her face - the other woman did not trust herself to speak. “You wanted me, even knowing I would never see you in the same way, yet you still chase me like this. Even knowing what I’ve done, what I did to Gérard, doesn’t seem to stop you.”  
  
“Because I love you.” Angela said weakly.  
  
“Because you love the idea of me, _chérie._ ” She said, and she could feel the sharp intake of breath Angela took at the term of affection. “I have not been that Amélie in a long time, and I was never _yours;_ at least, not in the way you so desperately wish. Perhaps in a different time, yes - but not now. Please do not do this to yourself. You deserve so much better.”  
  
It took Angela a few moments to compose herself, but when she stood up she seemed… Stronger. Tired still, with exhaustion weighing on her shoulders, but in a better state than Amélie had ever seen her.  
  
“Before I go.” She said, looking to Amélie. “Lena seemed very anxious to talk to you as soon as possible.” Amélie winced at the mention of her name; that was not a conversation she was looking forward to - she could barely remember what she had said in her delirium but considering what her mental state had turned into she doubted it would be kind. “Should I inform her now or-?”  
  
“Let me be for now.” She said, cooly. “I am sure she will come by here tomorrow regardless, which would be better.” Angela nodded, starting to move off; but at the door she stalled, looked back to Amélie.  
  
“I know that I… Have not made the best of impressions, Widowmaker.” She said quietly. “But regardless of who you used to be I would still like to get to know you better. Perhaps we can have lunch together sometime? I would like to know your opinions of some of the books I lent you at the very least.” Amélie smiled softly in reply.  
  
“I would love that.” 

-x-

“Hiya Amélie, it’s me - was wondering if you were wanting a little company?”  
  
“I think you would come in regardless of whether I said yes or no.” Amélie replied, watching as the door to the medbay slid open and the familiar face appeared in the doorway. She was dressed down from her training session, bomber jacket slung over one shoulder and the accelerator pulsing softly on her chest. Like a second heartbeat - Amélie knew to Lena it was just as important to her as a heartbeat, if not more.  
  
“Aw, come off it.” She said, walking over to Amélie. However, when she reached the space next to the bed, she seemed to pause. The woman had always come off sparrow like but this flitting about seemed to take that to the next level; when she finally settled she sat down on the stool, pushed closer to Amélie - but not _too_ close, if her humming and haa-ing had anything to do with it. Distance was good, neutral; after the performance she had made she didn’t doubt that Lena wanted a little distance between them.  
  
“Healing up all okay love? Gotta say, I was worried there you’d completely lost the plot.”  
  
“As far as I’m aware, yes.” Amélie said. “Angela mentioned that my vitals are already evening out - she will have to keep me under watch for the next week or so in order to make sure that the withdrawal symptoms do not suddenly intensify again without her being able to immediately respond. Considering the state I think I got myself into when you found me, I think that’s preferable.”  
  
“Wait…” Lena said, chewing on her lip. “You don’t remember what happened when I found you?”  
  
“ _Non._ ” Amélie confirmed. At the confirmation it made Lena swear something filthy under her breath Amélie couldn’t quite catch. 

“I- well, that makes this a lot harder.” She said. “Let’s get the easy one out of the way - you are on a mission from Talon right now, what’s the deal with all that?”  
  
_Ah._ It made sense she had imparted that information in her dazed state. “You didn’t tell Angela or Winston?”  
  
“I wanted to hear from you first, yeah? You were locked up far too long last time for basically looking at us funny - don’t want all that happening again without a bloody good reason.”  
  
“You have a lot of faith in me, Lena.”  
  
“Because I trust you.” Lena said, sighing. “I know I shouldn’t, after all this. After all, you’ve been working for the enemy this whole time, right? Feel wrong to just take your word for it.”  
  
“I do not blame you.” Amélie said quietly. “But if there is anything I can say that can help you believe that, please tell me. I am tired of lying.” Lena just shifted in her seat, biding her time. Stalling, even.  
  
“You said that you were sick of feeling cold and all that.” She said quietly, like the moment would shatter if she spoke too loud. “You were sick of all this, that you wanted to feel alive… That I made you feel alive. That you loved me.”  
  
_Shit._ _  
_ _  
_ Amélie could feel the flush rise on her cheeks as she heard the words, as her stomach dropped and her breath picked up. Of course she said that, after all that of _course_ she did, and she tried to will herself to stop shaking.  
  
“Is that true?” Lena asked, and for the first time Amélie noticed the shake in _her_ voice. Like even Lena wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking - or if she was prepared for the answer she was going to hear. It almost comforted Amélie; despite them both being past the age where figuring out themselves was expected they could still do this - still be unsure and not suffer the consequences from each other. She swallowed her pride.  
  
“Yes.” The word came out smaller than she expected. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncom-”  
  
But she didn’t have time to finish the sentence because suddenly she was being pulled half out of bed, nearly losing her balance entirely and it took Amélie a moment to realise Lena Oxton was kissing her like it was the last thing that she would ever do. Their lips crashed together and slotted together; Lena’s lips were chapped and she tasted like she smelt, of Earl Grey and static and possibility, sweet sweet possibility that made Amélie heart _sing._ She made a breathy noise as her mind caught up to her body, fingers fisting in the fabric of Lena’s shirt because they were falling, falling and Lena knew the way. Time hung still, but who else knew time better than Lena? And when Amélie opened her eyes it was to see Lena’s looking back, the amber bright with a laughter she couldn’t yet hear.  
  
“So you’re okay with it.” Amélie replied dumbly as Lena pulled away. She could see Lena trying not to giggle in reply and _ah, yes,_ there was the laughter she had been waiting for. Perhaps she had always been laughing; considering her heartbeat was too loud in her chest she didn’t doubt it.  
  
“Far from it, love.” Lena replied, and Amélie did not miss the extra note of affection on the term of endearment. It made her heart skip a beat - something that would have seriously concerned her not a few months ago but now just made her even more delighted in the moment. “I can’t tell you how much I thought I cocked up with you. Thought we couldn’t ever be together because of the whole ‘you’re recovering and need time to be you’ thing. Glad that was a load of poppycock.” Amélie couldn’t help but laugh into her palm, before her expression became more serious.  
  
“Do you still plan on telling Overwatch about this?”  
  
“Feel like I might cark it early if I try to nick this out from under Ang’.” Lena said. “Think they’ll loosen right up though if you tell them some nice secrets about Talon.”  
  
“That I can do.” Amélie said. She tried to move, but suddenly winced. “I don’t mean to bother, Lena, but you’re leaning on my-”  
  
“Your drip, shit! I’m sorry!” Lena said, scrambling to her feet. Immediately the painful pinch subsided; that and Amélie was treated to the nice sight of the woman in front of her ( _her girlfriend?_ a part of her entertained with a thrill) mussed up from their brief makeout session. Her large bangs had fallen skew whiff in front of Lena’s face and she pushed them aside with a laugh that seemed to warm her from the inside out. “I need to get going anyway - lunch break’s almost over and drills aren’t gonna do themselves. I’ll be back later tonight though?”  
  
“Sounds wonderful - I will see you then.” Amélie said, “I love you.” She couldn’t help but grin as Lena’s features lit up at the three words, as she pressed a kiss to her forehead with a ‘love you too, love’ and skipped out the room like something out of a morning cartoon. Still, it left Amélie basking in the post revelation discussion - that was, until she saw the skull flicker to life on the communications touchpad next to her.  
  
_Shit._ _  
_ _  
_ Sombra worked for Talon, surely she had seen that entire thing go down if she was able to repeatedly hack the security system in her room. Taking the device in her hands, she willed herself to calm as she read.

_hack initializing…._  
  
_got yourself a pretty lady there now, amiga. wouldn’t it be such a shame if somebody came along to ruin that? or tell a certain criminal organisation their pride and joy has double crossed them?_

_dont worry though, you’re in luck_

_after all, i would love a friend like you_

_you’ve got a good eye and better aim and you’re also a somebody within overwatch. i’ll love a friend like that_

_unless youve got problems with helping a friend out someday, talon’s gonna hear you’ve been neutralised. don’t worry your little head about that._

_use your time wisely amelie - lena’s not going to be the only one aware of it anymore_ _  
_ _  
cheers, love ;)_

  
Amélie watched as the message flickered once, twice on the screen before switching back to the usual orange and white interface used for the Overwatch system. She knew Sombra was dangerous, and she certainly knew “owing the woman a favor” wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. And yet… She couldn’t find it within herself to care. She was free of Talon, she was back in Overwatch and she had the girl she had been dreaming of since she’d locked eyes with her on that rooftop all those months ago. Clever woman had seen something in her she hadn’t even been able to at the time - but then again, there was a reason that Amélie had fallen head over heels.  
  
There was a reason she finally felt _alive._ _  
_

**Author's Note:**

>  _The minimum word limit is 5k,_ I tell myself as I write more than ten thousand words over.
> 
> Also, check out my This will be cross-posted there, along with the gorgeous art from my partner [which you can also check out here!](http://staticremnant.tumblr.com/post/155171538216/a-little-late-but-heres-my-art-for-warmth-in-her)!


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